Hope and Miracles
by Marjatta
Summary: A scene extension for S2x7 because the moment when Robin first tells Marian he loves her ends awfully abruptly.


**Hope and Miracles**

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I do not write for profit.

Summary: A scene extension for S2x7 because the moment when Robin first tells Marian he loves her ends awfully abruptly.

_As Allan scurried away, Marian threw Robin's knife just past his head and into a sack of flour. She extracted his nervous promise that he would never, ever betray her, and he was gone. Then they looked at each other. Why should their precious little time together be spent under evil circumstances such as this near violent confrontation? But Marian was beginning to understand better the complicated man in front of her._

"_It took you a long time to tell me that."_

"_Tell you what?"_

"_You know…."_

_He laughed. She laughed uncertainly in return._

_Robin sniffled and wiped at an eye. The previous few minutes had unleashed an exhausting sequence of overpowering emotions, but he still had trouble putting any but anger or jealousy into equally powerful words._

"_I must have been half-concussed."_

"_Well! You'll be fully concussed, if you don't watch out."_

_Robin sniffed again. The moment was all wrong. "I think I know where the Pact is."_

Robin rose first and helped pull Marian to her feet.

Marian's tone admonished him. "Robin, you are lucky you've not been noticed here. That was dangerous to fight Allan where so many people might have discovered you."

"Aren't you going to scold me for fighting him at all?"

"No." Marian moved to the doorway and checked the hall for any loiterers.

Robin moved behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Why not?" He was only starting to realize how much harm had been averted by Marian's timely intervention. He wondered if he would ever get complete control of his anger. The battlefields of Acre still held their curse upon him.

Marian turned back into the kitchen storeroom with a finger to her lips and blew out the lone lamp casting a dim light within the small chamber. She whispered almost inaudibly, "Because you already know you should not have done it."

He stopped himself from commenting that such restraint was unlike the Marian he knew. In truth, Marian was unlike that Marian he had known when he first returned home. After five years in a desert hell where memories faded in the blinding light, England had become in his eyes a foreign land. He knew he loved it, but he couldn't quite recognize it. The same was true of Marian. At first she was like a walking memory to him. He could hardly tear his eyes off of her when he first saw her, but at the same time, he felt so distant to her, as if she were not real, only a phantom. It did not help that she would not let him touch her. Perhaps she really was a phantom, a dream.

Upon his return, all of his surroundings were dreamlike. He could not even remember clearly what life at Locksley should be like. The house was familiar, but he could not picture his older, battle-worn self living there. When he became an outlaw so soon after setting foot in his ancestral home, he hardly realized what had been lost. The walls of his house had not felt like home in the one night he had sat sleeplessly within them. All he knew was that he had exchanged hot, blazing sands for cool, sheltering forest, and that had felt like coming home.

Only gradually did Robin of Locksley truly wake up to the real world of England from which he so quickly had been banished.

"I should not have done a lot of things," he answered.

Marian looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"When I came home, you and Edward wanted me to let my four peasants hang for a small pathetic theft that only two of them had committed. I couldn't understand. It made no sense to me that you should want me to be party to such a cruel act. But you could see the consequences. I should have believed in you then and taken your advice even though I didn't understand it."

"I believed in my father, then," she interjected.

"And do you not believe in him now?" Robin tried to look into her eyes, but she would not meet his gaze.

"No. … I don't know. I thought then that you and Father could fix things—with your help, it would happen, but I didn't understand how terribly wrong Nottingham was. Father knew better; he was just biding his time, waiting for a miracle, but now he has given up." She turned further away as Robin caught a brief glimpse of a heartbreaking look of sadness. "I don't want to give up," she mumbled.

"I don't want to give up, either." Standing close behind her, he ran his fingertips just above the neckline of her shirt. "But I am sometimes fearful that I am really only waiting for a miracle, too. Just like Edward was." He sighed, not wanting to say the king's name out loud.

Marian turned back to him and looked wistful. "We could run away, Robin. Have you ever thought of that?"

"Every day. I have a list of a dozen places where you and I could live free," he grinned.

"And would we have a roof over our heads?"

"What do you think I am?" His tone was mock indignant. "You think I cannot manage a roof?" They were teasing each other now. "I not only can manage a roof, I guarantee you a bed and a table. Perhaps a bench or two." He grew serious. "But I can't promise that it would be what your father wants for you."

"He wants me to be happy. He just doesn't always remember what sorts of things make for real happiness."

"It wouldn't be hard at all. We could seize our happiness any time." Robin leaned against the cold stone wall and began studying her hair as if to distract himself from the meaning of his own words.

"We certainly would have a right to do it. Why does no one else seem to worry about the fate of England?" Resentment rose in Marian's voice.

"If England won't stand up for itself, what can we do for it?" he mused.

"Yes, what can we do, Robin?" Now she was looking into his face to see if there was an answer there.

"If Richard won't look after his kingdom, what can we do for him?" Robin echoed helplessly. It was no answer at all.

"Or for his people?" Marian corrected.

"Yes, for the people." Robin agreed. They were quiet and still for a few moments, but then Robin took her shoulders in both hands. "I don't know, Marian. Am I wrong again? Should I just cut my losses and run into exile?" For some reason, he did not yet have the nerve to say "we" in place of "I."

Yet, slowly their last defenses were crumbling. It had been easy in recent months to become passionate behind fences and in dark corners. Stealing into her bedchamber had required few explanations, even in the beginning. But to admit that their hearts couldn't wait much longer….

She made an effort to speak but found no words to say. No answers for him or for herself. She honestly didn't know what was best or even what she wanted. The only thing she knew was that she wanted to kiss him. And hold him. Now. The thought of running away and living with the love of her life, in blissful peace, was too painful to hold on to or let go. She reached for him, and he surprisingly all but collapsed into her arms, hiding his face in her hair. She could feel their hearts pounding against each other.

His soft whisper floated past her ear. "I love you, Marian. I love you. I love you."

She felt choked but managed a reply. "I love you, Robin. Don't ever forget."

He took a shuddering breath and straightened up enough to connect for a kiss. Two kisses. And a crushing embrace.

Which was interrupted suddenly by a pair of footsteps entering the kitchen workroom just outside the storeroom where Marian and Robin still hid. They both froze, knowing it was too late to hide but hoping they would remain invisible in the darkness. One voice was giving orders.

"A lot of important guests will be arriving in a few days. Ten or fifteen. The Sheriff wants the kitchens ready to serve good meals. He says try to be a little more creative next time. No more peasant food. Stuff a pheasant or something."

Another voice mumbled something, and both sets of footsteps went their separate ways.

Robin let out a shaky breath. He was definitely losing his taste for danger. Marian pounded lightly on his chest with a hand she had just wormed free. "Let me breathe!"

Quickly Robin released his arms. "Sorry. I - I didn't realize."

Hushing him with her fingers, she spoke of the thoughts aroused by the voices. "It sounds like more Black Knights might be coming."

Robin nodded. "Or it could be Prince John or his most trusted supporters coming to see the Pact."

"You said you knew where it was. Can you take it?"

"I'll try." It was too easy to slip back into the familiar pattern of putting their lives on hold. They had been doing that for almost seven years now. "I think I can."

Their future was postponed again. They would make no decision today. Checking through the doorway, Marian reported, "The passageway seems clear now." She was about to say more, but he interrupted her.

"Yes, I know, love." He smiled as winningly as he could manage. "I'll be careful."

She smiled back, sadly, acknowledging that they would change nothing yet. "I need to visit my father … and apologize."

Robin wanted to ask her why she needed to apologize, but they could both feel they had run out of time, once again. They slipped reluctantly apart before racing to overtake whatever disaster seemed always to be lying in wait for them.


End file.
